The great bronze fountain on the back wall of the kierten began spewing jets of spray into the gathered crowd. A few people swore and moved hastily back; others murmured surprise and dismay. Those murmurs grew louder as the water in the basin began overflowing, pouring steadily onto the marble floor.
“What’s wrong? Can someone turn that off?”
“I’m soaked! Did you see my shoes?”
“Look out! The water’s coming!”
Servants hastened toward the fountain, seeking shutoff valves, showing each other frightened faces when none of their efforts had any effect. A cook came dashing up from the back corridor, crying, “Help us! Somebody! A pipe has broken and there’s water all over the kitchen!”
The crowd’s voice grew louder now, more alarmed. There was a wet and slippery surge toward the doors and the safety of the courtyard—and a series of screams from the first few people to stumble out the exit.
“The lake is rising! The river—unbelievable! The river is flooding over the falls!”
Now the revelers were starting to panic; now there were wails of fear and a few angry shoves as people fought to get clear of danger. Someone shrieked and pointed, and dozens of people wheeled around to stare at the corridor to the queens’ wing, where water was gushing into the kierten from some unknown source. It was not too hard to imagine water pouring down those varicolored marble stairs like the largest and most beautiful fountain in the world.
Deep beneath the foundations of the palace, an ominous rumbling started.
“What’s that?” someone shouted.
“Get out! Get out!”
“But the lake is rising! We’ll all be carried away!”
“We’re all going to drown!”
A sudden sheet of water erupted from the men’s wing, drenching Soechins and subjects alike before subsiding into an unbroken oncoming stream. The king and his guests had been milling about on the dais, as stunned and distracted as the mob below, and this only made them worse. The ambassadors and their wives were shouting; the queens were weeping and clinging to each other. Vernon stood stupidly at the edge of the stage, staring at the mayhem around him. Only Darien Serlast seemed to be moving with any purpose, herding Josetta and Corene and Romelle toward the middle of the stage and what might be a modicum of safety. His eyes darted around the great room, searching for causes or searching for escape routes, and his gaze snagged on Zoe.
“Stop this now!” he roared at her, his arms around Josetta and Corene. “Stop the flood!”
In reply, she lifted her arms, fingers still spread, and water began rising up from the foundation of the palace itself, pulled from the aquifer deep inside the base of the mountain.
The viceroy and his daughter held hands and leapt from the stage with a magnificent splash, then plowed through the rising waters for the door. Vernon turned his bemused face toward his most trusted advisor and said, “What are we to do, Darien? There is water through the whole palace!”
“Zoe!” Darien shouted. “Stop the flood!”
Oh, but she was not ready to still the waters yet.
Most of the kierten had emptied out by now, though fifteen or twenty hardy souls still stomped through the swirling water, churning up great gouts as they attempted to open drains or close off access points. Three men struggled back inside, waving their arms frantically.
“Majesty! Majesty! The Marisi is almost to the palace door! You must evacuate now—everybody—out of the palace!”
For the first time, the king looked frightened. “Darien! What should I do?”
Now Darien’s expression was pleading, his voice was hoarse. “Zoe! Zoe, I beg you—”
In a pool up to her knees, she waded forward, her woven robe so sodden it weighed her down. But she could not discard it, not decorated as it was with the hunti pin Darien Serlast was probably very sorry he had given her. “I’ll take the older girls,” she called up to him, as if she was offering him reasonable aid for which he would be immensely grateful. “You watch out for the king and his wives and Natalie.”
“Zoe—”
She held her hands out. “Josetta! Corene! Come to me and I’ll take you to safety.”
“No!” Seterre cried as Josetta, without a moment’s hesitation, ran across the stage and vaulted down into the rising water. “Stay with me—”
Zoe hugged Josetta and beckoned again to Corene. “Come with me! I’ll take care of you.”
Clearly afraid, Corene glanced worriedly at her mother, at her father, at Darien. “Go with her!” Darien shouted, and that decided her. The girl scurried to the edge of the dais.
“Catch me,” she said, and jumped into Zoe’s arms.
For a single heart-stopping moment, Zoe staggered under her weight, under the impact of her body and her blood and its encrypted secrets, and then she set the girl on her feet. Taking hold of Josetta with one hand and Corene with the other, she said, “Ready?”
Then the three of them raced through the frothing water, plunged down the inundated steps, half swam across the courtyard in water up to their hips. Then, still clinging to both girls, Zoe flung all of them headlong into the rising river.
THIRTY-TWO
The river lashed around them, but Zoe and her two companions floated in water that was mysteriously smooth, mysteriously calm, though it whisked them along with alarming speed. Josetta was not afraid, Zoe could tell; she used her recently acquired skills to keep her head above the surface, but otherwise let the river carry her where it would. Corene was more frightened, clinging to Zoe, gasping out little cries every time a thrust of the current sent them briefly bobbing below the surface. Zoe held her tightly with one arm and murmured reassurances, all the while keeping part of her attention on Josetta and part of her attention on the landscape so swiftly passing by.
It took only minutes for the Marisi to rush them through the short initial fall and then the few miles south to the broad stone apron of the river flats. “Josetta! To the shore!” Zoe called as she saw the channel open up, and they both started stroking toward land. It was instantly clear this wouldn’t be a haven for long. The hollow bowl of the flats was rapidly filling up as the Marisi collected water from all over the city and sent it galloping through the palace before letting it flow downriver. The whole place would soon be underwater—and then the flood would start spreading west until it covered the city itself—
“Up! Up!” Zoe cried once Josetta dragged herself out of the water, coughing a little. Zoe and Corene were right behind her, and they all scrambled for the comparative safety of the overhang. Corene was still clinging, and now she was openly weeping, but she didn’t hesitate when Zoe pushed her toward higher ground. Josetta clambered up first, then leaned down to haul her sister to the top, and moments later Zoe was beside them on the rocky ledge, only a few feet from the rising river.
Now that they had paused from their intense exertions, the cold air of Quinnelay hit them with miserable force, made worse by their waterlogged clothing and little hope of immediate shelter. Corene started crying even harder. Josetta hugged her sister tightly and turned big eyes toward Zoe.
“What do we do now?” she whispered.
Zoe wrapped her arms around the two girls, drawing them into a brief protective circle. “I need to stay here a few minutes,” she said, explaining as well as she could. “I called the river, and I need to contain it. I know you’re wet and cold and wretched, and I’m sorry, but as soon as I can, I’ll take you someplace warm and safe. Corene, listen to me. I know you’re afraid, but I—”
Corene lifted her face from where it was pressed to Josetta’s shoulder. Tears were still streaming down her face, or maybe it was water dripping from her bedraggled hair. Her ivory gown clung to her in sloppy wet folds; the scattered rosebuds were augmented with bits of river debris. “Thank you!” she sobbed. “Oh, Zoe, thank you! I was so terrified of that man—I told my mother I didn’t want to marry him, but she said I had to. She said it would be good for me, and good for the k
ingdom, but I hate him. I hate all of them and I didn’t know what to do—”
Zoe hugged her again, relieved that at least her wild rescue had pleased the person she had tried to save, no matter who else would be devastated by the event. “Good. I’ll get you to safety, I promise you, but first I—”
“Zoe,” Josetta interrupted. “There’s somebody coming down the river.”
Zoe whirled around and, sure enough, there was a body tumbling through the currents, not being treated nearly as gently as Zoe and the princesses had been. She spread her fingers and imagined caressing the tempestuous surface of the unbound river, smoothing its choppy waters, slowing its tumultuous descent. The man shouted at her, waving his arm as if hoping she would throw him a rope, but she could do better than that. She directed the Marisi to deliver him to the shore, and he came splashing and sputtering out. He climbed up beside them, then fell to all fours, wheezing and panting.
She didn’t recognize him, but he wore what had started out as finery, so he was no doubt a wealthy man. “Do you need help?” she asked him a little fearfully, but he mouthed the word no.
“I just need—to catch my breath,” he gasped. He shook his head and sat back on his heels. His eyes were glazed with exhaustion and disbelief. “Never—I have lived in Chialto my entire life—and never have I witnessed something like that. I can’t even understand what happened.”
Josetta, her arms wrapped around Corene for warmth, just looked at Zoe, who shook her head slightly. This didn’t seem to be the time and place to claim to be the Lalindar prime, who could make rivers and fountains overflow at her command. “You’d best go find shelter and dry clothing,” Zoe said.
He didn’t seem to be thinking clearly enough to respond with the logical, And so should you. He merely nodded, sat there another moment gathering his strength, and then pushed himself to his feet. He loped toward the curiously empty back streets that tangled around shacks and small businesses this close to the flats.
Deserted, Zoe realized. People had evacuated as soon as the river started rising. A few hardy and curious souls peered out of second-story windows or clustered several yards upriver, watching the water race past, but most everyone else had run away.
“Zoe!” Josetta called again.
She turned back to the river, where two more bodies were spinning in the water. Again, she guided them to the bank; again, they showed no disposition to linger. Servants this time, she thought, and even more speechless about their adventure than the first man.
The fourth person she pulled out of the water was Foley.
He scarcely required her aid, swimming strongly to shore and swinging himself up to the overhang with swift, economical motions. Zoe felt her whole body loosen with relief. He would take care of the princesses, leaving her free to control the river.
“Foley!” Josetta cried when she saw him. She didn’t go so far as to fling her arms around his wet uniform, but she might as well have; she looked that glad to see him. “I knew you would come for me—I knew it.”
He nodded at Zoe, which she took as a mark of approval for the havoc she had wrought in pursuit of one desperate goal. “Saw you go into the river and thought you would end up here,” he said. “We need to get you warm and dry. All three of you.”
Zoe pointed toward the nearest buildings, which appeared to be a couple of storehouses and one dilapidated repair shop. “I think everything’s been abandoned. You might be able to break in and take clothes or blankets. Maybe build a fire.”
“How long do we have to stay here?” Corene asked. “You said you’d take us someplace.”
Zoe nodded. “I will. But not just yet. I have to—I have to make sure the river doesn’t do any more damage.”
“A foot higher and it’ll breach the banks all up and down its length,” Foley said. “Flood the whole town.”
“I know,” she said. “But I can stop it.”
“We’ll wait here with you,” Josetta said.
Zoe glanced at Foley, wondering if he would argue, but he was merely nodding. Not his place to question a princess, Zoe supposed; his job was to make sure she lived through whatever she decided to do. “I’ll see what I can find,” he said and headed off toward the deserted buildings.
Zoe turned back toward the river, bubbling higher in its channel, only inches now from the top of the overhang. Upstream, she knew, there were a few places where the river might already have gone spilling out of its course, sending wet destruction through the streets. Well, she had called the river; now she needed to control it. She needed to stuff it back into its underground cisterns and passageways, send it sinking back into the soil.
Zoe knelt on the edge of the overhang and poured her heart into the Marisi.
She rocked it like a crying baby; she stroked it like a hissing cat. There, there, she crooned wordlessly, patting its indignant cheeks, smoothing its disordered hair. All better now. Lie quiet now. Be still. Be peaceful.
At first the water resisted, petulant as a willful child, but she continued to murmur, continued to soothe, continued to coax. And slowly, slowly, the water began to sigh and simmer in its banks. Its high boil shrank down; its gushing pulse grew tame. The agitated gallons summoned from underwater reservoirs went chattering down the southern miles toward the sea. The ordinary flow of everyday water resettled in its banks, churning up an occasional feisty spray, but otherwise resuming its ordinary volume. All better now. Calm, peaceful.
“Zoe.”
Her own name snapped her from a deep reverie. She drew a swift breath—and then another one, surprised to learn that full dark had fallen while she had been communing with the river. A little disoriented, she pivoted away from the Marisi, trying to regather her thoughts. She found Josetta, Corene, and Foley sitting around a busy little fire, all of them wrapped in blankets that looked none too clean. Corene lay with her head on Josetta’s lap; it appeared that she might actually be sleeping. Zoe realized that she was absolutely freezing. Her hands and feet were completely numb, though someone had draped a blanket over her shoulders while she hadn’t been paying attention. How long had she been standing here, cajoling the river back inside its banks?
“Zoe,” Josetta said again. “Is it time to go yet? Foley’s hired a man with a cart if you have someplace to take us.”
“I do,” she said. I think I do. “You’re right. It’s time to go.”
Foley rose and began stamping out the fire, while Josetta woke Corene up and shepherded her toward a bulky shadow squatted on the nearest street. Zoe could just make out the shape of a horse and driver. She turned to follow the others, but paused to take one quick look up at the mountain, where tiny lights always outlined the palace against the night.
There was nothing to be seen. The palace—or at least every candle, every lamp, every flame in the building—had been washed away.
Jaker opened the door on Zoe’s first knock, and then stared mutely at her entourage. She had never before seen his blue eyes so blank.
“Good, I was afraid you might have left town already,” she said. “Can we come in?”
He nodded and stepped aside, still staring. Barlow’s voice sounded from the other room. “Is someone here? Jaker?”
Zoe motioned the others inside, and then shut the door under Jaker’s hand. “You might have heard there was an incident at the palace this afternoon,” she began.
Barlow wandered into the common room, dressed only in a towel. “Is—Zoe! And—oh! Who are all these—I’m sorry, let me get dressed.” He disappeared again.
Corene had instantly collapsed onto the well-worn sofa, but Josetta was looking around with interest at the boxes and books and oddments. Foley stood stiffly by the door, his face showing the first signs of disapproval Zoe had noticed all night. He doesn’t mind if I bring the palace down to save a princess from a disastrous marriage, but he doesn’t like the girls to be brought too close to common men, she thought. It was hard to restrain a somewhat hysterical giggle.
“
Zoe,” Jaker said, his voice quiet. “Am I mistaken, or are these two of the king’s daughters?”
“Josetta and Corene,” she said, pointing. Just then Barlow hurried back into the room, so she repeated the girls’ names, and then identified everyone else. “Foley, their guard. Jaker, Barlow. Two traders who are friends of mine.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Josetta said politely.
Jaker cut Zoe a look from his blue eyes. His face was beginning to thaw from disbelief to amusement. “This is even more astounding than learning you are the Lalindar prime.”
“Does anyone want anything to eat or drink?” Barlow asked, heading toward the kitchen.
“I’m starving,” Zoe said.
“There’s not much in the house because we’re leaving in the morning, but you can have anything we have,” Barlow said. “Then everyone sit down! And tell us just what’s going on.”
Even Foley consented to taking a seat—though not until Josetta told him to. They all shared a meal of stale bread, withered fruit, and some of the dried rations the men had prepared as provisions for their journey. Regretfully, Zoe turned down Barlow’s offer of that delightfully sparkling wine; she was feeling fuzzy enough already. But Jaker took a small glass and drank it down in two swallows.
“We learned today that the king planned to marry Corene to the viceroy of Soeche-Tas,” Zoe said, making the story as concise as she could. “He’s a man so loathsome even my father despised him, and I couldn’t countenance the notion of a girl her age going to his bed. I called up the river. The palace started flooding. I grabbed the princesses and jumped into the Marisi, and a few other people got swept away. Now the river’s back in its banks, though I imagine there has been some damage. I am not returning the girls to the palace until I’m certain there is no more talk of such catastrophic weddings, so I thought you could take them with you. No one will know where to look for them if they’re with you.”
Jaker started laughing. “Oh, Zoe,” he said. “It was a grand day when the elements swept you into our lives!”